


Care for some care?

by Nen (Nenchen)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Naked Cuddling, No Sex, Other, Post-Coital Cuddling, Romantic Fluff, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), but only with a towel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nen
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have been in a physical relationship for some time. They worked out what they like in bed, and what they like after.This fic is only about the sweet, soft aftercare. No special reason for it, except they love each other and want to show it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 95





	Care for some care?

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This fic implies them having sex at the start. There is no actual sexual content in this! Have fun!  
> Written because can you ever have enough aftercare? NO! For the ACE Omens server who demanded I put this on my to write.

They both collapsed next to each other, breathing heavily. 

_I love you._

It shone out of every finely crafted pore of Crowley’s corporation. Unguarded, freely given, unashamed and unapologetic love. There could be nothing more beautiful than him in the whole universe.

Smiling, Aziraphale looked at his lover. 

_His lover._

He would probably never get tired of saying or hearing it. And he couldn’t possibly resist wriggling closer and running his hands over the others chest, giving him a small, affectionate peck on the cheek, his heart swelling at the smile he got in return. He reveled in the soft embrace and the equally soft kisses that followed.

When they’d first started to get more intimate with each other, Crowley would always close off after any kind of intimate moment. Feeling vulnerable, he’d unconsciously put his guards up, even though he strived for affection from Aziraphale. Who, in turn, had felt horrible because he knew he was also very much at fault for Crowley feeling like he had to hide himself away, since he had made him hide time and time again. Not now, however, not ever again. 

So he’d done what Crowley had always been readily doing for him: Offered. 

Offered his heart, his soul, ready to do anything he could to make it better. And thus, after a long talk, with many feelings, they had tried a lot of things and found some that worked.

But still, habits formed in 6000 years were hard to unlearn, for both of them. Aziraphale could at least always feel his partners love as a constant source of reassurance - the demon did need more direct reminders that everything was ok. 

That he was save and cared for. 

And that he was allowed to care, too. 

And that was precisely why Aziraphale came to love what came after, well, they came.

He hummed to himself, slowly getting up and stretching luxuriously. While he could just miracle anything his heart desired right into his hands, he had always liked to have things that were made by humans. And preparing things for aftercare, well, it was another thing to show how much he cared. To make Crowley believe just how often he occupied his mind. 

That didn’t stop him from using a small miracle to keep the prepared things pleasantly warm of course. 

He didn’t even have to get off the bed, since everything was already laid out on his nightstand. Still humming he looked over his array of scented oils, trying to decide.

“How about pine today, angel?”, the other called out, making his smile widen. Crowley was really getting better with communicating his wants, even the small ones. He mixed the oil with some neutral soap and wetted some of the towel with it.

He turned around to see the other looking up at him, hands behind his head, grin smug. Which might have something to do with the tray he’d miracled onto his nightstand while Aziraphale’s back had been turned. Two glasses of wine, two glasses of water and some assorted fruits and cheeses. Apparently two could play the game of taking care.

“Oh you.”, he tutted, trying and failing to hide how pleased he was.

“Drink up.”, he said, offering one of the glasses with water while downing the other himself. 

Aziraphale gulped it down. Rehydrating wasn’t strictly necessary for the both of them, but it was refreshing. And it helped Crowley to come down. He smiled when Crowley took his empty glass back to the tray. When he reached towards the other things, however, he stopped him by grabbing his wrist gently.

“We really should clean off first. I’d say `who knows where our hands have been’ but I’d say we both remember that quite well, don’t we?”

Outside of this room, their very most private space, he would have never seen just how beautiful Crowley’s reaction to him saying things like this was. Outside of their space there were sunglasses and perfect control over a body that was only as mortal as they wanted it to be. Outside their space Crowley slipped into a persona that was cool, calm, collected and witty, like he would slip into a comfortable sweater. Outside, still, they both sometimes silently feared being caught in their act. Being torn away. Loosing what they had.

Of course, this sometimes was also the case inside.

But most of the time, being inside their space meant forgetting about all of this for a while. Feeling safe and comfortable in each other’s arms. Or, well, in an embrace of some sort. Inside, glasses were off the table because they were on the table. Inside the persona was thrown away haphazardly with Aziraphale’s comfortable sweater. Inside control over their bodies rarely came to mind, and only for very different reasons.

And this, consequently, meant his comment caused exactly the reaction he loved to see. Crowley’s pupils widening slightly, a small flush creeping up his face and down his neck. 

“Hngk. Get on with it before the wine turns sour.”

“As you wish, my dearest.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself, miracling himself clean with a quick snap, then looking down to start the task at hand. But then. A genius idea crossed his mind. His smile turned just the smidge more devious that usually preceded their “very good times indeed”.

He dipped another cloth into the warm water and set it aside, to wash off the soap.

“Then, how about I start with those very hands, shall I?” 

He was tempted to innocently bat his eyelashes at Crowley, but he didn’t want him to know of his plan just yet.

Gently taking his right hand, he started to run the washcloth over it. Making sure to get each individual finger, he almost turned the cleaning into a massage of some kind, feeling Crowley relax under his ministrations. When he was done with cleaning away the soap again, the demon was almost as limbless as his other form. Perfect.

Aziraphale raised the hand to his mouth, nuzzling it to his cheek. As Crowley opened his eyes and looked back at him with eyes glazed over from relaxation, he proceeded to gently kiss the very tip of every finger. Seeing Crowley’s pupils widen again, he then kissed down each knuckle, placing a soft kiss in the middle of his hand and turned it to do the same on the palm. 

Looking up again, he saw a brilliantly blushing face looking back.

“You’re not playing fair now, bastard.”, the other choked out. 

Aziraphale’s grin widened as he raised his arm again to place another kiss on his wrist. 

“I haven’t got the slightest of what you mean. After all, this part is called “Aftercare”. Am I not taking good care of you right now?” he whispered against Crowley’s skin as he kissed further along his arm, placing a last kiss on the soft inside of his elbow before lowering the arm down again. 

He knew the answer to this. He liked asking questions he knew the answer to anyways, now that he was free to do so. 

“May I proceed with your other hand, love?”

Oh, he knew what this pet name did to Crowley, and it never ceased to amaze. The pupils looking at him were blown wide now, mouth slightly agape. The other was always beautiful to him, but like this? He was a marvel.

Said marvel let out an embarrassed but pleased chuckle, throwing his head back and the clean arm over it. 

“Yeah, yeah, get a wiggle on already. But you really are a bastard, y’ know that?”

Aziraphale took his other hand, eyes roaming along the curve of Crowley’s neck.

“I’d never debate an observation that’s presented to me with this amount of evidence by someone so brilliant.”, he hummed, proceeding to wash Crowley’s other hand.

His only response was a muffled whine from underneath the arm. Then, Crowley once again succumbed to the angel’s care.

Eyes roaming over Crowley's body, he noticed the inky blotches on his chest. He'd have fix these too. Cleaning his cloth in the warm water, he moved on to those stains, gently working them away and instead leaving a kiss wherever one had been. 

He worked down the stomach this way, accompanied by small hums and sighs the demon made. He gently cleaned where most of the mess was and reveled in the soft moans and shudders it caused. After dropping another soft kiss on each protruding hipbone, he leaned back to clean up the last part, the thighs.

Here too, he left a trail of soft kisses, following the movement of the towel, massaging the other thigh. 

Having cleaned as thoroughly as possible, he set the rag aside into the bowl. Done with the cleaning but not with the caring. Gently, he raised Crowley’s leg and placed a soft kiss on the inner side of his knee.

He would have continued in this manner, if Crowley hadn’t finally moved out of his hiding place and murmured “Angel”.

There was so much that word and that look conveyed. Love. Amusement. Trust. A softness unlike anything else.

“My turn, up with you.”

Aziraphale let himself be pulled up again. He could always continue kissing every part of Crowley later. He wouldn’t ever finish anyways. Just as he could kiss Crowley’s lips now and still never be done with it. 

Breaking the kiss, they looked into each other’s eyes, smiling. Lips parted, tantalizingly close. Before Aziraphale could do anything, Crowley pulled him against his chest in a soft embrace, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head.

“Thank you.”, he murmured.

The smell of pine enveloped Aziraphale. And below it something that was just indescribably, undeniably Crowley. He could never find a smell like it, or even one that made him feel this safe when smelling it. This loved. His favorite smell in the whole world.

One of his close seconds was the smell of the excellent red Crowley was holding up to his face.

“Here you go.”, he said, moving both of them to sit a bit more upright.

Aziraphale took the glass, leaning onto Crowley’s shoulder. He took a sip of his wine, relishing in the taste and this incredibly indulgent coziness. 

When the other held a grape to his lips, it was his turn to kiss his thanks into the others skin, soft onto the presenting fingers.

“You are so good to me.”, he murmured, earning a flustered hitch of the other’s breath and a piece of cheese held up to his lips. 

“Of course I am. How could I not?”, the other answered. 

There was so much weight behind this, pressing into his soul with the truth of it. With Crowley at his side it was almost easy to unlearn anything bad he’d ever been made to think about himself. Nothing could withstand the light of Crowley’s open admiration and love for long.

He cuddled closer to the other who, in return, gripped him just a bit tighter. They both knew.

They continued leisurely sipping the wine, with Crowley feeding Aziraphale the occasional bite. He told Crowley about the new book he was reading, Crowley told him about the new art projects he wanted to try. But most of the time was simply spent silently basking in the afterglow and each other’s presence. 

When the glasses were empty at last, Crowley turned towards the Angel and pulled him into another deep slow kiss. He must have miracled their glasses away at some point during it, because Aziraphale found both his hands free to roam the other’s body. Burying one hand in his hair, the other between his shoulder blades, he held Crowley close with great gentleness and care, like the precious thing he was. Crowley just melted into it, lazily stroking along the angel’s sides, following the curve of his spine, mapping his body with his hands as if he hadn’t already made whole collection of elaborate, ornate maps of it.

After a while his hands slowed, together with the breath and heartbeat he technically didn’t need. It still had alarmed Aziraphale the first time it happened. Now, however, he simply readjusted their position a bit, sitting up and pulling Crowley against his chest a bit so he could use both of his arms. 

“Good night, my lovely.”, he whispered into his hair along with another kiss.

“night ngel.”, came the answer. Less than a whisper. 

And then the other was out.

The first few times, Aziraphale had felt guilty distracting himself with books and other things while being here with Crowley. But after talking about this, Crowley had assured him there was no need for that.

“Nothing wrong with occupying yourself with your books angel. Not like I’ll notice. I just like having you close, alright?”

And that had been that. Especially once Aziraphale had found another thing to occupy himself with and lavish attention onto Crowley.

Aziraphale reached for his latest reading material, leaning back with a happy sigh, careful not to wiggle and disturb the other. He was easily woken in the early phases of sleeping, honed demonic instincts not allowing him to let go easily. An hour or two of reading should be enough. And so he read.

He stopped when he heard the first snore. Almost impossible to hear, just a faint whistling of breath. And still something Crowley would never have allowed if any part of him were conscious. Perfect.

Carefully laying down his book, Aziraphale grabbed for the other objects he laid out on the nightstand. A small container with ink and a soft calligraphy brush. 

This routine had started because while he could always instantly soothe any negative thought his beloved demon had when he was with him, they still separated often to enable each of them to go about their hobbys. And the thoughts only got worse sometimes.

For Aziraphale it was always easier to shake, feeling the love of his companion so deeply. But, like with their ritual of aftercare, Crowley would often need other reminders.

Aziraphale didn’t even have to think about what to write first.

Dipping the brush into the ink, he turned Crowley onto his back and wrote it right onto the middle of his chest.

_**My love** _

The first time he’d written onto Crowley’s skin, he had been awake. They had talked about it before. A mark, a physical reminder of what Aziraphale saw in him. Something he could take anywhere. He’d written those words too then, small and on his side. Next to beautiful prose and carefully curated words he’d found in books, Crowley had still lingered on those, looking at himself in the mirror afterwards. So Aziraphale had made sure to always include them.

The next words came easy too. What he thought of Crowley was impossible to capture with one word, and only barely with infinite words. But there were many he wanted to be seared into the other’s mind.

_**Lovely** _

_**Clever** _

_**Beautiful** _

_**Caring** _

_**Humorous** _

The classics. 

_**Elegant** _

_**Brave** _

_**Confident** _

_**Charming** _

_**Creative** _

_**Ravishing** _

A few more, for a bit of diversity. Maybe some day he would have written all of the words to describe Crowley onto his skin. Maybe one day both of them wouldn’t need this anymore. But for now, he continued.

_**Enticing** _

_**Exiting** _

_**Generous** _

_**Marvelous** _

_**Captivating** _

_**Tempting** _

A bit of cheek was always appreciated. Something Crowley could cling to if he got overwhelmed.

There was only space left for one more. Aziraphale thought about the perfect thing to finish off this time and couldn’t think of anything special. He bit his cheek, slightly frustrated.

But, as it so often was the case, Crowley came to his rescue. His sleeping body tossed a bit until he found Aziraphales hand, taking it and cuddling up to it with a brush of his lips. He whispered something into Aziraphales skin, almost inaudible. 

_“Let’s go to the Ritz, Angel.”_

Like that first time they held hands, in an old city bus, on a night when so much happened that, to them, lost its importance over the possibility of their own side.

Aziraphale smiled. He knew the perfect words now. He’d settle in for a cuddle and short nap with him later. And when Crowley slipped into deeper sleep again, he carefully turned him only as much as he needed to write the one thing that came close to encompassing everything Crowley was to him.

_**My world.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit my tumblr at [goodduckingomens](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens). Comments and Kudos very much motivate me, so please leave some if you had fun. Keysmash comments appreaciated for the true Crowleys out there.  
> Also, once again a big thank you to LaskasBasket, who is the most amazing commenter I ever had and motivated me to finish this. I swear I am starting with the next thing right after this.


End file.
